* * *
“WHAT in the hell . . .”
Vaughnne watched as the car a few hundred yards ahead went flying, up and backward, flipping over the dark blue sedan parked in the middle of the road.
Tucker jerked the steering wheel to the side to avoid having the car plow into theirs, and for the second time that day, she had the pleasure of having her body flung about. This time, the seat belt stopped her, but it wasn’t really that much of an improvement. It still hurt.
The car flipped upside down, landing in almost the exact spot where Tucker’s car had been three seconds earlier.
Neither of them took a second to breathe a sigh of relief, although Vaughnne did say a quick prayer of thanks as she fumbled for her seat belt. She was out of the car, weapon in hand, before Tucker even had his car at a complete stop. Every muscle in her body screamed and she suspected she was going to crash, and hard, sometime soon. For now, adrenaline, determination, and fear were the only things keeping her going.
“Stop,” she said, positioning her body as a man climbed out of the passenger side of the dark blue sedan still sitting in the middle of the road. He had blood splatter on his face, she noticed. Blood splatter, and either he didn’t notice, or it didn’t bother him.
She peered around his body and saw the driver, slumped over the steering wheel, and although she couldn’t see him well enough to be certain, she had a bad feeling she knew where the blood had come from.
The man took another step toward her, hands lifted in the classic pose . . . Hey, I surrender, don’t shoot me . . .
It might have worked, if he hadn’t been walking toward her, if he hadn’t had blood all over him, if she hadn’t recognized his vibe. Psychic as all get-out, and since something had sent Gus’s car flying through the air, she was going to assume this bastard had something to do with it.
“Hey, I just wanted to help . . . I saw the accident,” he said, smiling a little.
“Yeah. Sure.” She braced her weapon with both hands and hoped he couldn’t see the fact that she was swaying a little. “Stay where you are, man.”
Something nudged her. Hard.
She couldn’t see it, but she damn sure felt it.
His eyes tightened when she didn’t react.
The push came again, harder, and this time, she stumbled a little.
“Sir, you are going to desist,” she warned him. “Now.”
“I’m just standing right here,” he said mildly.
“And I’m Santa Claus,” she snapped.
“Ho, ho, ho . . .”
This time, when he pushed, she went down and he lunged.
“Do I get to play, too?”
* * *
TUCKER moved between them just as the man would have grabbed Vaughnne. Intercepting them, he smiled a little as the man fell back. Apparently he hadn’t realized there was a third party lurking around. Tucker decided he liked that . . . being the third party.
Stripping off one of his gloves, he tucked it in his back pocket. Something shoved at his chest. He didn’t know what it was, but he figured it was the guy. Telekinetic, he decided, able to move things with his mind. Tucker wasn’t impressed.
Snaking out a hand, he caught the man by his throat, using his still-gloved left hand. “I want to play, too. Let’s start with twenty questions. Who is after the kid?”
Something gripped at his hand—it was like he could feel something trying to pry his fingers off. “Stop it,” he warned.
“Fuck off or I’m gonna fuck you up,” the man gasped out.
“Oh, really?” He laid his bare hand on the man’s face and did a quick discharge.
A scream split the air, and when Tucker lifted his hand, there was a red imprint of his palm left on the man’s face. “Electrical burns . . . such a bitch. You know, I think I’d do the most damage. Want to have a pissing contest or are you going to tell me what I want to know?”
“I don’t know who is after him . . . but it’s a lot of money.” Eyes wide, the man stared up at him. “A shitload of it, and if we don’t take him in, somebody else will.”
“Oh, it won’t be you.” Tucker slammed everything he had into the man and watched as the life faded from his eyes.
Nobody who hunted kids deserved to live.
As he rose, he watched Vaughnne steady herself as she got back to her feet. “Please tell me you did not just do what I think you did.”
“Hey, his heart gave out. That’s all.”
“Damn it.”
“What was I supposed to do? Just let him walk?” Tucker shrugged as he tugged his glove back on. “You think you can arrest him and tell the judge . . . Hey, Judge . . . he wrecked that car with the power of his mind. Yes, sir. He really and truly did. And they’ll believe you and lock him up until . . . oh, wait, it won’t happen.”
She glared at him.
He just shrugged and headed over to the car. He was five feet away when the driver door budged. He heard somebody grunting and then there was another smash as whoever it was kicked it again. Determined son of a bitch.
He surveyed the damage to the door and glanced over at Vaughnne. “That door isn’t opening without some serious assistance.”
She grimaced and went to one knee, peering down.
A gun was shoved in her face.
Tucker swore and went to kick it away, but she lifted a hand to stop him.
Sighing, he turned his back and stared off into the distance.
* * *
THE battered face staring in at him was the very last one he’d expected to see. For a minute, he thought perhaps he hadn’t lived through the crash. But then Vaughnne stared at the gun he held for a long, long minute before shifting her dark eyes to his. “You know . . . I don’t think I’ve ever had a man spend as much time threatening me as much as you do without me doing him serious bodily harm. I’m contemplating just how much I’m going to make you suffer for it once this is all said and done, Gus,” she said, her voice tired, husky.
He just glared at her. Alex was behind him, his breath coming in harsh, panicky little stops and starts, and the one thing that Gus knew . . . they were trapped. They were completely trapped and he was out of options. The only chance he had was the woman in front of him.
And Vaughnne knew it.
“Don’t you think it’s about time you start trusting me?”
He gripped the Sig Sauer, staring into her eyes.
You must promise me . . .
That voice danced through his mind, teasing, taunting.
Promises.
Trust.
Behind him, Alex sobbed softly.
His gaze locked on Vaughnne’s, he laid the gun down. Her hand caught his, and gently, she squeezed.
Gus closed his eyes.
FOURTEEN
“A SIMPLE babysitting job, you said.”
She had to give him credit, SAC Taylor Jones had the grace to look the slightest bit shamefaced as he joined her at the door. A doctor had cajoled her into being treated, but not until somebody else had shown up to stand guard over the kid.
Somebody was Taige Morgan. She freelanced for the unit. Taige now spent more of her days playing mama to her own gifted child, but Vaughnne knew she could trust the woman to guard that kid while she was poked and prodded by the doctor.
Taige was currently sitting by the boy’s bed, and although the doctors had told him to rest, she was holding his hand and going over some of the basics that Vaughnne had tried to explain to him. Taige would get further. She had a limited telepathic ability, not as strong as Vaughnne’s, but her overall psychic skills were a lot stronger. If anybody could get that kid on the right path to shielding, it was Taige. She’d trained herself, and her abilities had come on her young as well.
“He needs to be resting,” Vaughnne said tiredly. “Instead, he’s being taught shielding.”
“He needs to survive,” Jones said bluntly. “So he’s being given the tools he needs to do it.” He looked over at her, and although h
is eyes were expressionless, she knew he wasn’t the cold bastard he seemed to be. It was just better if he came off that way, she guessed. “If he keeps broadcasting the way you seem to think he is, he’s a walking target. Best way for him to get any rest is for him to learn how to lock it down. Morgan can do this without scaring him or pushing him too far, and while she’s at it, she can build some passive shields around him that will last for a little while, even when she’s out of contact.”
She nodded and glanced at her watch. Gus was out, getting his turn with the doctor. Now that he’d finally taken it. He’d been gone only twenty-eight minutes. If he made it thirty—
A shiver raced down her spine and she angled her head around, looking out the door to see him striding down the corridor toward her. Grim-eyed, stone-faced, and so damned beautiful. She suspected he’d given them hell every second he’d been gone—given them hell, or terrified them. He had made her look like a little pussycat when it came to stubbornness.
She shot a glance at his arm as he came through the door, and she studied what she could see under his sleeve. A few stitches were visible.
“Wow. You were generous,” she drawled. “You gave them almost a half hour.”
Gus flicked her a look. There was a bruise forming along his right cheekbone. It made him look even darker, more dangerous. Deadlier. Sexy as hell.
Shit. Everything the guy did was sexy as hell.
He looked away from her to stare daggers at Taige’s skull, although Taige didn’t spare him even a glance, focused intently on Alex.
She needed to let the kid get some rest. They were all damn tired.
By the time they’d gotten both Gus and Alex out of the car and the emergency medical personnel had gotten the two to the hospital, it had been nearly six. Then Jones had arrived on the scene, and Vaughnne hadn’t been surprised when he’d decided to relocate the two to a different hospital—in Atlanta. A more secure one, a bigger one. More anonymous. By the time they’d been transferred to Atlanta, both Gus and Alex had been assigned new aliases.
How long they’d stick, Vaughnne didn’t know. How long Gus would hang around, she didn’t know.
But for now, the kid was getting something he desperately needed . . . some teaching. For now, he was safe, and he was getting some much-needed rest, too. Or he would, once he stopped talking to Taige.
Or rather, when Taige decided he’d had enough, Vaughnne amended a few minutes later.
“That’s enough for now,” Taige said quietly.
“But—”
“No.” She shook her head and stood up. “You’ve had enough for the day and you’re already making some progress. Get some rest and I’ll do some more tomorrow, but for now, you need some sleep. You’re not going to be able to do your best anyway if you’re not resting.”
“But—”
“Alex.” Gus spoke from the shadows of the room, standing in the corner. All he said was his name, his voice soft, almost gentle, but that was all it took.
Alex closed his eyes and turned his head, muttering under his breath.
Taige grinned wryly and flashed Vaughnne a look. “Man, I wish I could command instant obedience like that from my kid,” she said. She rose from the chair and came over to stand at the door. “I’ll see if I can hunt down a chair and I’ll be at the door . . . in case I’m needed.”
She didn’t say anything else as she passed between them.
But as she passed by Vaughnne, she slid her a narrow look. She hadn’t even gone five feet when Vaughnne felt the press against her mind. She let the other woman in.
That kid has more fear in him than I’ve seen in a long, long while, Taige said, her mental voice as strong and steady as her normal one, and just as clear.
I know. I don’t know what they are running from, but I’m going to find out.
There was a pause and then softly, Taige said, It has something to do with his father. I caught that much. I can try to look deeper tomorrow, but he’s got a lot of talent. No skill . . . yet, but a lot of talent, and he’s been living on wit and instinct a long time. If I try too hard, he might pick up on it and that’s going to make him shut down and it might freak him out. As strong as he is, I’d rather not have him freaked out. It could get ugly.
Vaughnne kept her face blank, but she was hard-pressed not to snort as she recalled the headache from hell the boy had blessed her with. Ugly. Yes, it could get really ugly. Do me a favor, if you can, because he won’t quit doing it when he feels the need. He somehow uses his ability to read others and he comes down like a sledgehammer. Show him the right way.
There was a soft sort of sound, almost like a sigh, and from the corner of her eye, Vaughnne saw Taige shake her head. Reading people. He’s too young to have to be using himself as a weapon, Vaughnne. You know that.
Yeah. She did. I think it’s been the only way they could keep him alive. What were they supposed to do?
Taige didn’t answer, and after a few minutes of silence passed, Vaughnne figured they were done. For now. Focusing on the boy, she studied the slow, steady rise of his chest and realized he’d already gone to sleep. She looked over at Gus and then nodded to the other bed. “You should sleep,” she said quietly. “You’re both safe here.”
His eyes glittered at her in the darkness, and although he had no ability at all, she felt like he could see clear down to her soul, see every last secret. “What were you talking about?”
She stared at him.
Tense, heavy silence stretched out between them, an icy shroud. Finally, she lifted a brow. “Excuse me?”
“With her. You were both talking, I know it.”
“Oh? And since when were you any sort of psychic?” she asked lazily, leaning one shoulder against the door.
His eyes narrowed on her face.
Vaughnne sighed. “Don’t worry about it, Gus. She’s been going over shielding with Alex—was explaining what she worked with him on, how to help him more if I have to.” She lied through her teeth and did without blinking.
Gus continued to stare at her, the disbelief on his face clear. “Remember what I told you, Vaughnne.”
Next to her, Jones tensed.
She shot him a look and shook her head. “It’s okay, Jones. He’s just . . . jumpy.”
She moved to the hard-ass chair just inside the door and settled down. Every muscle in her body screamed at her as she did it; maybe she should take one of the pain pills the doctors gave her. Once Taige got back. Or half a pill. She thought she could still stay awake on half a pain pill.
“I had them keep the room across the hall open for you,” Jones said, dipping down to murmur in her ear. “Go lie down for an hour.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. Consider it an order, Agent.”
She turned her head and glared at him. “I said I’m fine.”
He slid out of his jacket, revealing the side holster and the weapon he hadn’t bothered to remove earlier. As he hung the jacket on the back of the door, he glanced over at her. “If you’re so fine, then you can do it just to humor me.”
* * *
GUS hated hospitals.
He’d avoided them as much as he could, for as long as he could. Even now, as he stood there in the dark, watching as Alex slept, he was plotting out the escape routes. Just in case.
He’d told Vaughnne he’d trust her, and he was trying to do just that.
But there were too many unknowns here. Far too many.
He hurt.
He had bruised ribs, lacerations on his face and hands; the worst one had fifteen stitches, but that wasn’t even the big concern. His left knee was jammed and that was a problem. He needed rest almost more than he needed to breathe, but he couldn’t afford to take it. He was going to make do with the anti-inflammatories and ice for his knee. He’d dealt with worse—far worse.
“If you fall down, you’re not going to do him any good.”
Flicking a look at the blond man by the door, Gus went back to ig
noring him. While he hadn’t made Vaughnne for a cop, he’d made this one the minute he’d seen him. Well, not a cop. FBI. Federal agent . . . much worse than a cop. A federal agent who had an interest in psychics. That made him a threat in Gus’s mind, and he couldn’t relax around a threat.
“Do you trust Vaughnne?”
Gus closed his eyes. “I trust nobody.”
A soft sigh drifted through the room. “It won’t be long before you have to trust somebody, son. Whether it’s me or Vaughnne, you need to pick your poison. The boy is in more trouble than you can possibly understand.”
A harsh laugh burst from him before he could stop it, echoing through the room. “Oh, I know the danger, son,” he bit off, shoving up from the chair. “It is this danger that has us running all these years. I know the danger.”
“Do you?”
Turning his back, he stared out the window. The parking lot was quiet, thank God, and he could see the highway—easy access if they had to steal a car. The first thing he’d made note of.
A bright glow lit the room and he turned back around.
The agent, Jones—Vaughnne had called him Jones—sat in his chair, holding out an iPad. “Vaughnne brought this to my attention earlier. I realize you are running from somebody, Gus . . . I hope you don’t mind me calling you Gus. You haven’t given any other name.” Jones paused.
Gus just stared at him for a long moment before looking down at the iPad’s screen.
Jones shrugged and held the tablet out. “One of my freelancers apparently shared this information with . . . an acquaintance. The information was then given to Vaughnne, who shared it with me. You should read it.”
Gus closed the distance and took the tablet, even as a weight settled heavy and cold in his gut. His heart jumped into a fast, hard gallop, and his throat went tight. His palms felt damp as he started to read. Automatically, his brain broke down the code in the heading.
The Psychic Portal—
He set his jaw and fought the urge to hurl the iPad across the room.
“The website’s banner is encoded. I’m having somebody on my team break it down—”
The Protected Page 20